


No Place To Rest My Head

by redbells



Category: Veronica Mars (TV)
Genre: F/M, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-18
Updated: 2011-05-18
Packaged: 2017-10-19 13:38:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/201457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redbells/pseuds/redbells
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not the Camelot, but it feels the same.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Place To Rest My Head

Logan called them epic, once. Something about spanning years and continents, lives ruined and blood shed. She still remembers that night, and the horrible ache that settled in her chest the next morning, when Logan couldn’t remember, Kendall hanging off him like some obscene ornament.

The memory circles in her head as he kisses her, but the remembrance of that pain doesn’t stop her hands from sliding up to clutch at his back, doesn’t stop her from returning his kiss.

I’m a masochist, she thinks, but she can’t hold onto the thought. It flies away with the thrust of Logan’s hips, and then she can’t think at all.

Afterward, when they have collapsed in a sticky, tangled mess of limbs, Veronica lets herself wonder what the hell she is doing. She’s falling head over heels back into the past she fought so hard to escape, here in this motel room with Logan. It’s not the Camelot, but it feels the same, sordid and wrong. What’s worse, she can’t bring herself to stop.

His fingers trace absent designs on her skin, and she shivers. He knows she’s not cold, her skin sweaty and flushed, but he lets her pretend.

Logan doesn’t ask what’s wrong, and Veronica doesn’t tell him; they both already know the answer. It lies heavy and unspoken between them, an ugly thing neither of them wants to look at. They stay silent for a long time, before she slides out of bed, the sheets pulled tight against her body.

“I should go.”

“Yeah.”

She collects her scattered clothes and leaves without a backward glance, unwilling to see the stony expression on Logan’s face, the one he only makes when he’s trying to hide his hurt.

Her car coughs and sputters when it starts, and she focuses on the engine, trying to shove Logan to the back of her mind.

It doesn’t work, and stuck in gridlock on the verge of tears, she faces the morning alone.


End file.
